“What the hell are you doing? Are you out of your mind? Keep it up and you’ll be in the cell with him,” Edwards snorted.
“Don’t expect the president to get his hands dirty by helping someone with that kind of record? Do you have any idea what you’re talking about? Mark Landry is one of the best operators I have ever had the honor to serve with. And he just happened to save your boss’s ass—and probably yours along with it—just a few years ago. Let me refresh your memory.”
Dunbar pulled a folder from his bag and threw it on the Chief of Staff’s desk. Edwards reached for his bifocals and quickly read the letter. “Berlin?” he asked.
“Yeah, Berlin. How many lives do you think he saved? A thousand? More? And unless you’ve forgotten, he did it almost entirely on his own and never asked for a thing in return. He just went right back to work. But the things he’s done since then probably wouldn’t interest you because they didn’t involve saving your ass.”
Edwards leapt to his feet and stuck a finger in Dunbar’s face. “At ease!” he yelled. Then he removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’ve allowed you into my home and I’m listening to you, but don’t get too carried away. I’m a patient man, Dunbar. But you’re starting to piss me off. I’ll talk to the President. I’ll see what we can do for your guy.”
“He’s your guy too, Mr. Edwards. I’m going to get out of your hair now. But let me leave you this,” Dunbar said, handing him a plain manila folder. “There’s a copy of the President’s letter inside along with everything else you’ll need to get the other guy out too.”
“What other guy? You’re insane. I’ll go to bat for Landry but for nobody else.”
Dunbar snatched the folder from the chief of staff’s hands, pulled out an eight-by-ten photo, and held it up. Edwards squinted his eyes to examine the photo and gasped. “You wouldn’t dare!”
Dunbar smiled widely. “And to think you were worried about her seeing you drinking alone. Imagine if she saw that on the front page of every paper in the United States! Do the right thing, Mr. Edwards. You do the right thing and so will I.”
One hundred thirty-four
“I have the detailed results from your latest toxicology report,” shared Dr. Chang. “And they show trace amounts of chloroform.”
Luci smiled and nodded her head. “Good, that’s good.”
“Why is that good, Luci? It means someone tried to … harm you,” said Chang.
“Yeah, I know that. But it also validates what I’ve been saying. I did not try to kill myself. I would never do anything like that. The last thing I remember is getting into my car to go to work when someone covered my face with a rag, which we now know was soaked in chloroform. I tried to get away but he was a lot stronger than me. I passed out and woke up here, and everybody’s been acting like I tried to kill myself. That ends now.”
“I understand. It’s difficult when people don’t believe you. But you have been through a lot lately. Just be happy so many people care about you, Luci. You’re obviously a very special person, because the parade of people calling my office or trying to see you has been impressive.”
Luci yawned and stretched her neck from side to side. “Well, unfortunately that must also mean a lot of people heard about what happened. Listen, I want to get up and go to the bathroom. Give me a hand, will you?”
“Sure, and there’s something else we need to talk about,” answered Dr. Chang.
As Luci sat up in her seat, the phone next to her bed rang. She reached over and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Hi, baby. You sound good. How are you feeling?”
“Mark? Yeah, I’m bouncing back. What about you? Where are you? You sound so different!”
Dr. Chang whispered, “I’ll step out so you can have some privacy and will send in one of the nurses to help. We can talk later.”
“Listen, I have only a minute,” said Mark. “I’m sorry I’m not there. It wasn’t my choice. I got pulled away for something related to the attack that I really can’t talk about. And all I want to do is just come home and be with you.”
“Where are you? Baby, are you crying?” she asked.
“Me? Never. Listen, I’ll be there as soon as I can. And I promise you I’ll never leave you again. Ever. For anything, Okay?”
“Okay.”
“The thought of you being there alone is killing me,” said Mark.
“Don’t worry about me, Mark. Actually, I’d kill for a few hours alone. I hope you don’t think I did this to myself. I didn’t. I have too much to look forward to. I was attacked. And the doctor just told me they found chloroform in my system. I’m not suicidal or crazy, Mark. And I have no idea how that necklace ended up in my hand.”
“I would have believed you no matter what the tests said. And hopefully we can find whoever did this to you. I’m so sorry, but right now I have to go,” Mark whispered.
“Okay, I love you.”
“I love you more than you’ll ever know, Luci. Bye.”
One hundred thirty-five
Kenny splashed water on his face and looked at his reflection in the small metal mirror welded to the wall above the sink. The lack of a clock and the constant glow from the fluorescent lights in the cellblock made estimating the time nearly impossible. His best guess was that two or three days had passed, but the man he saw in the mirror looked as if he had been there much longer.
Where are you, Mark?
“Mr. Harrington, come here and stand with your back to the door so I can put these on you,” said an official with handcuffs.
The prisoner dried his face on the front of his jumpsuit and took one last look in the mirror.
Be strong. No questions. No statements. No deals. Trust Mark.
When the cell door opened, Kenny turned around and found himself facing two men dressed in casual civilian clothes whom he had never seen before. The bigger of the two, wearing an Oklahoma Sooners ball cap, stepped forward and grabbed the prisoner’s arm. “Listen very closely and don’t say a word. I’m going to put your blinders on you and then we’re going to go for a walk. Just relax and do what we tell you to do and everything will be fine. Understand?” Kenny nodded nervously. “Good,” said the man, slapping him firmly on the shoulder.
The goggles went on, each man grabbed an arm, and the three walked briskly down the hall. After a short elevator ride and several more hallways, they exited the building. Kenny felt the fresh air and drank it in with both nostrils. He heard a vehicle approach. The brakes squeaked as it came to a stop in front of him, and Kenny soon found himself sitting in the back seat between the two men.
“You’re doing good. Just keep doing what you’re told and I’ll take the goggles off as soon as I can. Don’t speak until I tell you it’s okay. Nod your head if you understand.” Kenny nodded. Another slap on the shoulder followed.
After a short ride, the car came to a stop and Kenny was lifted out by both arms. The deafening noise combined with the smell of jet fuel caused him to panic and struggle momentarily. “Calm down, little man. Nobody’s going to hurt you,” the big man said into his ear, screaming to be heard over the aircraft. “We’re just going on a little plane ride to get you as far away from this place as we can, okay? Hang tight. You’ve done good so far, okay?” Kenny stopped struggling and offered another nervous but submissive nod. “Good. We’ll talk once we get up in the air.”
When the small jet reached cruising altitude, the goggles came off. Kenny opened and shut his eyes rapidly several times to adjust his vision. The man with the ball cap sat facing him. The other man was sitting off to Kenny’s left. There were no other people in the ten-seat cabin of the private aircraft.
“Max, go ahead and take his cuffs off,” said the big man, leaning toward Kenny. “I’m Billy. That’s Max. Nobody is going to hurt you while we’re around, so you can sit back and relax. I’ll grab you a meal in a minute. Listen, I can’t tell you much just yet. But it looks like the worst is behind you if cooperat
e and play ball. Do you understand? You can speak now.”
“Yes,” said Kenny. “I understand.”
“Good, we’ll be back on the ground in less than two hours.”
Kenny devoured his meal and had closed his eyes for what he thought was just a few minutes when Max nudged him awake. “We can dispense with the handcuffs, but I need to put these back on you for now,” he said, holding up the goggles. The three men emerged from the aircraft, descended the stairs, and were quickly whisked away by a waiting car.
Another elevator. The three men’s footsteps echoed as they walked down a series of corridors. A door opened, and Kenny was ushered into a carpeted room and to a comfortable chair. The goggles came off. “Just wait here and don’t touch anything. He hates that,” said Billy.
Kenny found himself sitting alone in a spacious office in front of a large wooden desk. The room was modestly decorated. His intuition told him it belonged to someone important. He breathed deeply and tried to calm his nerves.
Where am I? Whose office is this? Stay calm. Keep your cool.
The door opened and a voice came from behind. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Harrington. But there were a few things I had to take care of before we could chat,” said an older, distinguished-looking gentleman as he crossed the room and stood behind the desk.
“Who are you?” Kenny asked.
The gentleman smiled, grabbed a bottle of warm water from a table against the wall, and handed it to his guest. Then he folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the desk. “Everyone calls me Doc. I’m your new boss.”
One hundred thirty-six
Mark splashed water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror. The few hours of sleep had helped, but the events of the past week had taken an enormous cumulative toll on him. He thought about the fourth shooter still on the loose and felt nauseous.
Where the hell is he? Why hasn’t he been caught yet? What is his final target? Doc says it’s not my concern, and ordered me to stay out of the way. But I can’t get the bastard out of my mind.
Then he thought of his future with Luci and smiled. He reached for the soft towel, dried his face and hands, and exited the small bathroom attached to Luci’s hospital room.
She was back in her signature look—jeans with high heels—and smiling proudly as two nurses admired Agnes’s vintage emerald ring on her left ring finger. “Congratulations!” both said cheerfully. Mark entered the room and admired his fiancée as she joked and laughed. In spite of all she had been through, she was glowing with love and optimism.
What an extraordinary woman.
“Are you ready to get out of here?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah. I want to go home, eat, soak in the tub, and sleep. Then get up tomorrow and do the same thing. After that, I think I’ll be good. I feel better with every hour that passes, and I’ve never had so much to be happy about thanks to you.” Luci wrapped her arms around Mark’s neck and kissed him on the lips. He squeezed her tight and lifted her off the ground in a bear hug. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said.
When they pulled out of the parking garage, one of Luci’s nurses waved them down from the sidewalk. Mark pulled over and the nurse approached Luci’s unrolled window. “Listen, it’s not much, but we just wanted to give you something to wish you guys the best of luck. All three of you!” she said with a smile, passing a small stuffed teddy bear and a copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting to Luci through the window.
Luci covered the title and laughed. “Okay, thanks. Let’s go, Mark. I’m hungry.”
“What book is that?” Mark asked. “Let me see that.”
The nurse backed away from the window with both hands over her mouth. “Oh, my God! I’m so sorry. You haven’t told him yet? Oh, no! I’m so sorry, Luci.”
Luci turned to Mark, flashed her thousand-watt smile, and held up the book with one hand. “It’s still early. But Dr. Chang assures me there’s a healthy baby growing in here,” she said, tapping her stomach with her free hand. “You’re going to be a father, Mark.”
One hundred thirty-seven
Luci was asleep within seconds of her head hitting the pillow. Mark’s head was still spinning from the news. Two days earlier he was sitting in a cell, wondering if he would ever see daylight again. Now he had everything he had ever dreamed of.
Landry needed to unwind and get back to some sense of normalcy. He cracked open a beer, plopped down on the couch, and turned on the television.
Five minutes to Magnum P.I.
He took a long pull from his beer and savored the taste in his mouth before swallowing. As he was finally beginning to relax, his phone rang. It was Doc. He paused the television.
“Hi, Doc.”
“How are you, Mark? How is Luci?” he asked.
“I’m fine. Luci is better than anyone could have imagined. She’s one of the most resilient people I’ve ever seen. Anyway, we are officially engaged and she also happens to be pregnant.”
“Really? Wow. You didn’t waste any time, did you, Mark? Congratulations to both of you. That’s great news and a perfect way to start the next chapter of your life.”
“Thank you. I was caught off guard a little bit, but I’m excited. We both are. What about you? Anything new? Anything on the fourth shooter?” asked Mark, jumping right into business.
“Yes, that’s why I was calling. Whoever he is, he’s dead. At least we think it’s him. A few hours ago, the Virginia State Police found the body of a young man on the side of the highway just outside Washington, shot twice in the back of the head. He was also missing an ear. We have plenty of DNA from the cabin to match, but those tests are in progress. In the interests of time, I was hoping you could take a look and verify the identity. Check your phone.”
Mark scrolled through the controls on his phone and pulled up the photo. In it, the fourth shooter was lying on his side, his hands and feet bound with duct tape. His mouth was open and blood covered much of his face. “Yeah, that’s him. You know, he swore to me he would make it to Washington and I almost laughed at him. Turns out he was right. But I imagine whoever he met once he got there wasn’t too happy with his excuse for being late. Probably saw him as a liability.”
“Whatever the reason, the decision was made hastily. We found fingerprints on the shell casings that matched a Belgian citizen who had entered the U.S. six months ago as a tourist. He tripped several facial recognition systems in Alexandria. Agents followed him back to an apartment where he ended up dying in an exchange of gunfire.”
“What about the weapons?”
“Hidden in one of the bedrooms were nine Sig Sauer M400s and a pound of factory-sealed C4.”
Mark exhaled. “Thank God. Anything else?”
“So far we have absolutely nothing connecting the three dead shooters, which is more than a little perplexing. If the Islamic State is telling the truth when they say they were behind it, it’s even more puzzling, because two of them were not known to be religious at all. The third was a Muslim convert but not considered devout by anyone who knew him. Analysts are still digging into everything. But whoever put them together and planned the attack was very good at covering their tracks. Similar story with the girl who bombed the ER. Her parents, both well-respected physicians, have been all over the Canadian news. She was known to be religious, but her family and friends say she never said or did anything extreme.”
“Yeah, until she blew herself up. Any pictures or video I should be worried about?”
“Thankfully, no—at least not yet. There are a small handful of pictures and a few short clips from the attack, all taken by townspeople, but the overall quality is bad. Of course, someone might still be negotiating a deal with the National Enquirer, but at this point I think you got lucky. By the way, Ashton Brown is in custody and facing a number of charges, including obstruction of justice and evidence tampering. That should keep him locked up for quite some time. I am also happy to say the Boston JTTF is no longer und
er the microscope,” Doc offered.
“What happened? Was there a mole?” asked Mark.
“No, their servers had been breached by some pretty sophisticated hackers out of Yemen. Our new guy fixed the vulnerability and introduced a virus that fried all their systems—all on his first day of work, believe it or not. Sound like anyone you know?”
“Kenny? I told you he was good, Doc. Is he working on the DOD breach?”
“That and a number of other things. Listen, I have another picture I’d like you to see if you have a minute,” Doc continued.
“Send it,” answered Mark as he finished his beer. When the new photo arrived, he sat back and breathed a sigh of both relief and accomplishment. The picture showed John and Linda McDonough side by side in a hospital bed, holding their beautiful newborn baby boy between them. John’s wounds and swollen face were no match for the elated smile of a proud new father.
“You made that photo possible, Mark. You made a judgment call a lot of people would argue against. But when I look at that picture, I can’t help but think you did the right thing. I’m proud of you. And I’m also thinking of following your lead and retiring,” said Doc.
“Really? I can’t imagine the Family without its Doc.”
“The Family’s days are numbered. It’s just a matter of time before we’re forced to close up shop, and I’m too old to help set up the next one. I’ve done that too many times and I don’t think I have the energy for it any more. So I’m going to go home and spend time with my wife, and try and reconnect with my kids and their families. Would you believe I have one granddaughter who is almost two and I’ve never met her? Don’t ever let anything like that happen to you, Mark.”
“Sounds like a plan. Keep in touch, Doc.”
“I will.”
“And thanks again to you and Dunbar for always being there for me.”
“You’re family, Mark. You’ll always be family. But unless you have a letter in your file from God that I’m unaware of, I’d advise staying out of trouble. Take care. Talk soon.”
Wrong Town: A Mark Landry Novel Page 34
